


Sing Praises [For Luck]

by freoduweard



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Flirting, Gen, M/M, Missing Scene, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, pre-Kraghammer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 06:17:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13607346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freoduweard/pseuds/freoduweard
Summary: Even heroes run low on money now and again, and with an expedition to Kraghammer looming on the horizon, they need all the help they can get. Vex'ahlia may handle the money, but this is a negotiation for Vax'ildan.





	Sing Praises [For Luck]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stag/gifts).



> This is a gift for stag for the 2018 Chocolate Box gift exchange! The Vax'ilmore prompt was 'missing scenes', for which I've gone for something before the stream started, since we've seen so little of that time. I hope you enjoy this offering!

Gilmore knew there was going to be an interesting customer when Sherri appeared at the entrance of his enchanting room, wafting a breeze through the frankincense-and-white-musk scent of the ritual candles that circled the perimeter, and cleared her throat to get his attention.

“Visitor for you at the front counter, sir.” She pushed up her glasses and then tucked her hands into the wide sleeves of her robe. “He says he’s of that adventuring group that saved Sovereign Uriel and the royal family - Vox Machina, I believe it was - and that his name was Vax?”

The slight jingle of golden jewelry sounded as Gilmore paused, a mere instant of frozen motion at the sound of that name, and then set down the piece he’d been Identifying. “ _Vax’ildan_ , you say?”

He stood, brushing off his robes with a fastidious - and spell-laden - sweep of his hand, removing any trace of wrinkles in the silk, any spot of dust from the fine embroidery. One had to look their best for any customer, of course, but one’s _absolute_ best was required for those who walked into his store carrying such a reputation as one of _Vox Machina_ \- and of those, he couldn’t help but put on a little _extra_ flair for the half-elf who’d first poked his nose into the shop those few months ago. “Well, I certainly can’t keep such an esteemed guest waiting! Snuff out the candles and keep an eye on things while I’m occupied, if you would, Sherri dear.”

The beaded curtain that separated the back rooms from the store proper parted with a grandiose sweep of his arm, revealing one Vax’ildan of Vox Machina - a figure rather out of place amongst the colourful drapery of _Gilmore’s Glorious Goods_ in his battleworn armor, but not uncomfortably so, and Gilmore was sure that if Vax ever unsheathed his blades, they would gleam as bright as any of those on display.

_Though not, perhaps, as bright as that smile that he just turned towards me._

“My my _my_ , and what do I see before mine eyes? Vax’il _dan_ , you really should have let me know you were stopping by!” One be-ringed hand splayed over his chest as if wounded, Gilmore huffed in mock-offense as he let the strings of beads fall back behind him with a soft, cascading rattle. “I need time to spruce up, to give the place a little more _glamour_ , if I’m going to be entertaining one of my very _favourite_ customers!

“Come, come - what shall it be this time? A batch of potions to keep you alive and hale on whatever quest you dart off to next, a dagger that drips hoarfrost like an Issylran winter’s night, or! Perhaps something particularly _resplendent_ to brighten up that new fortress keep of yours, mmm?” Dropping his voice down from its showman’s drama, Gilmore leaned across the polished wood of the long, solid-front table that remained between them, lacing his fingers together with deliberate slowness as the corner of his mouth quirked up in something that hinted at invitation. “Or did you just come here to see little old me?”

“Gilmore, my good man.” Vax, grinning broadly, laid his hands over Gilmore’s forearms in a clasp that squeezed perhaps a touch too firm or lingered a fraction longer than friendliness required. “When have I ever _not_ come here with the intention of seeing you? Truly, I don’t know what I’d do if I showed up one day and was only able to speak with your employees; it would lack the _richness_ of the, shall we say, full experience?”

Vax gave Gilmore’s hand a hearty pat as he leaned back from the greeting, sliding his thumbs into his intricate, enchanted snake-belt, so distinct against his battered leathers. “Though I have to admit, the enjoyment of hearing your voice isn’t the _only_ thing that drew me here today. You’re right in thinking that I need to stock up - both for myself as well as my sister and the others - because it looks like we’ve got a bit of a trip ahead of us, and our old armor’s wearing thin as well.”

Gilmore chuckled, waving off any further explanation. “Say no more; I’ll start pulling up our selection of potions– mmm?” The not-quite-wincing twist to Vax’ildan’s features slowed Gilmore as he reached for the large, leatherbound tome kept behind the counter for a quick inventory reference.

“Well, what with hiring on a few guards at Greyskull as well as furnishing the keep itself, and not a whole lot of jobs bringing back cash recently, we… might be a bit short on funds.” Something flashed in those dark eyes, uncomfortable and perhaps even a touch embarrassed. Gilmore did not ask. It wasn’t his place to pry, not in this instance.

One thick eyebrow rose. Gilmore hummed, low and thoughtful, as he stroked the braid of his goatee. “I quite like you, Vax’ildan, and you and your compatriots have been excellent customers of mine in the past, but I _do_ run a business, you know. My charity goes to those truly unfortunate in their circumstances, and Vox Machina… well! Even that name says much, doesn’t it, for you _have_ made a name for yourselves, with a reputation that reaches all the way to the Cloudtop District and beyond.”

“Members of the Council we may be, and with a home in this grand city to our name, but even lauded adventurers such as ourselves need a bit of help now and then.” Chin lifting, with not a hint of the uncertainty that flickered across his face before, Vax’ildan spread his hands. “And I do not ask for charity, Gilmore. Rather, I was hoping that between you and I, we might work out a deal…?”

“A _deal_?” Gilmore echoed, leaning forward onto the counter and lacing his fingers together, his rings clinking almost inaudibly as his attention focused down on the idea of an arrangement like a cat on the prowl. “Romping all across the countryside doing good deeds and adding to the tale of your legend can become quite the expensive prospect, but then again, so can bargaining with merchants if you’re looking to outfit an entire expedition. I might be inclined towards something profitable for the both of us, though. Was there anything in particular that you had in mind?”

The minute relaxation in Vax’s shoulders betrayed his relief that Gilmore decided to hear him out. His wry smile was far more obvious about it.

“I’m not quite as money-savvy as you or my sister, so I don’t know how much I can offer you in the way of _detail_ , but I did have the thought that we, Vox Machina, with the fame that we’ve garnered to our little group, could do something for you?” Earnest and honest, Vax’ildan leaned in as he spoke, both hands settling on the edge of the counter table as he pressed forward. “A favor for a favor in trade?”

Gilmore fought to keep the amusement and fondness from curling up the corner of his lips - not the easiest of tasks, when he was ever more inclined to make a show of emotion rather than conceal it, but one he had much practice in. _Really, it is no wonder that Vex’ahlia is the one that handles the haggling. A lesser merchant might take advantage of the heart you wear so blatantly on your sleeve._

“Alas, favors are not what I deal in. I prefer my ledgers balanced, and the lack of numbers set to a favor often spoils the bookkeeping. But-” Gilmore swept his hand up with a flourish to forestall Vax’ildan’s immediate protest. “-you _have_ given me an idea, and one that I think will go far to solving your dilemma.”

The bangles on Gilmore’s wrists rang with a metallic chime as he flung his arms wide, somehow managing to match the breadth and vivacity of his matching grin, and the translucent silks that decorated the ceiling and back wall fluttered in the wake of his exuberance. “You’re _heroes of Emon_! Vanquishers of dragons, slayers of demons, saviours of royalty! And I, well - am I not the most well-stocked, the most fairly-priced, the most _charming_ shopkeep on this side of the Lucidian Ocean? I would like to one day see myself become the most _well-known_ on top of even those accomplishments.

“ _You_ , Vax’ildan,” Gilmore gestured up and down from Vax’s pauldrons to his boots and back up again in a grand sweep before clapping him on the shoulders, “you and the rest of Vox Machina - heroes known! - can help _spread_ that word and reputation far and wide, singing the praises of _Gilmore’s Glorious Goods_ wherever your path may take you! And this time in an _official_ capacity, with my sponsorship.”

Vax blinked, eyes owl-wide, as if surprised to find himself quite literally caught up by the whirlwind that was _Gilmore_ , but despite the suddenness, he did not stiffen or pull away under the clasp of Gilmore’s warm, broad hands. (Perhaps it was only Gilmore’s own imagination that believed he felt Vax’ildan soften and lean towards him, instead.) A tentatively delighted smile began to replace Vax’s surprise. “Well. That shouldn’t be too hard on our end. I’ll bet I can even convince Scanlan to come up with a song that does you and your store justice.”

“ _Splendid._ Of course, that won’t be the _only_ advertisement I’ll have you do, but-! The rest should be even easier.” Gilmore snapped his fingers as he stepped back, rifling through his mental checklist of the more mundane armor sets he’d been debating whether to sell or enchant, envisioning his symbol imprinted in leather, the stitching dyed a rich, royal purple. “For a much, _much_ smaller price than what I’d sell them for normally, I can provide your band with sets of branded, patented Gilmore’s Glorious Armor – a talking point, a visual experience! – and they will be found protecting rough, rowdy explorers, which will speak for the durability and trustworthiness of my goods.”

“That quality might very well save our lives, my friend.” Gratitude writ itself into every line of Vax’ildan’s frame; he reached across the counter towards Gilmore as if unconsciously seeking to touch, though he only got halfway, his fingertips instead resting light as a whisper on the deep, dark wood of the countertop. “And what of potions and the like? It’s not as if we can show them off like we can what we’re wearing, so what would you say to a discount?”

Gilmore tapped his lips and thought it over. “For a group that I am sponsoring…? Ten percent.”

“Fifteen?” The offer came across the table in what Vax’ildan obviously hoped was a tantalizing wheedle.

“ _Ten_ percent, Vax, and that is a more than fair bargain.” Which it was, and even though Vex’ahlia would likely have pushed for a higher number, Vax settled back on his heels with an accepting nod.

“You won’t regret it. I _promise_ you that.”

_And so I shall not, not when it gives you more excuses to return to me._

“Wonderful!” Gilmore clapped his hands together, and from the way Vax’s attention followed the sound and sudden movement, it was as if he expected an explosion of celebratory sparks to rain down. “Then let this mark the beginning of a long and _glorious_ partnership for us both.  I expect that you’ll wish to inform the rest of Vox Machina before our deal is sealed, and I’ll of _course_ need the lot of you here to make sure that you’re all fitted properly in your new supple, _magnificent_ kits of armor. I do hope that none of your fellows object to purple, and even if they do, well – too bad!”

Vax’ildan’s chuckles joined him as Gilmore’s hearty laugh rang out across the shop floor, and the sound was almost as enchanting as the way the room’s magical lighting highlighted his face. This time, when Vax reached out, he did take Gilmore’s hand in both of his own. “Thank you, Gilmore, for _all_ that you’ve done for us.”

“You, in return, will be doing much for _me_ , Vax’ildan.” Gilmore smiled, and once again their touch lingered for a moment too long – a breath, a blink – but the moment still passed, and they parted once more.

“Ah, before you leave-!” As if in sudden remembrance, Gilmore spun with a whirl of embroidered robes and incense-laden air, bustling into the back room before returning out to Vax, gesturing for him to hold out a hand.

Amused and curious, if perhaps a touch bewildered, Vax did so.

“Don’t worry, this one’s on the house. I’ll not even count it as part of the sponsor deal.” Gilmore winked and dropped a small, glittering object into Vax’ildan’s outstretched palm. It was a bead, much like the few already woven into Vax’s hair, though much finer – a small but elegant piece of shimmering indigo-purple glasswork that varied in vibrancy, like curls of magic alight against a star-spattered night, like the colourful draperies outside of the shop that beckoned one closer. “A small trinket for luck.”

Just a small thing, much like the spark of hope that Gilmore was beginning to carefully nurture.

And if the bead _did_ happen to be enchanted with just a touch a magic, a whisper of _true_ luck, then, well... Gilmore could be forgiven for wanting to see his sponsorlings back safe and sound –

– and perhaps a certain handsome, daring rogue with a mischievous glint in his eye most of all.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the ever-fantastic spasticcharge - thanks for spending a spoon for me, dear; I owe you tea.


End file.
